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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665759">The Life of Jenga Squallsong</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RightToFlight/pseuds/RightToFlight'>RightToFlight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dungeons &amp; Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Backstory, Bandits &amp; Outlaws, Childhood Trauma, Cults, Dumb warlock can't pick a career, Dungeons &amp; Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons &amp; Dragons Character Backstory, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Other, Warlock - Freeform, Warlock Pacts, a cult? bandits? adventuring? would you just pick one???, making a pact when drunk is maybe a bad idea you guys, mmm yet another dnd character I project all of my problems and personal issues onto, ok um serious tags let me see..., she also CANNOT make up her mind, this dumb bitch just wants to be loved and i love her so much for it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:48:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RightToFlight/pseuds/RightToFlight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Half-elf warlock - Pact of the Fiend</p><p>Jenga is my first fully fledged out character, I've played her for about half a year now, and I figured I would share her story with the world.</p><p>If you stumble across this and you're in my party... Uh I mean I guess you could read it, I'm not going to stop you, but also you could just, like, not do that. Pretty major spoilers for our campaign. Your choice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jenga Squallsong spent perhaps only a month or two in the arms of her mother, before the elven woman left, for reasons unknown to her, and reasons her dad never spoke of.</p><p>And then it was just the two of them, in the small town of Maplewood, in a land where autumn never left the trees.</p><p>For 14 years, Jenga lived there. It wasn't the worst of lives to have. Her father made enough income from his carpentry business to support the both of them. Jenga learned to fix clothing and cook meals, and she helped her dad stockpile wood for when the weather got colder. She didn't have many friends, and the ones she made she never managed to keep for long. Getting into trouble just wasn't worth it for a lot of them, whereas Jenga chased every rush of adrenaline she could get. </p><p>She spent most of her time outdoors. This was partly because her dad kicked her out of the house a lot. Andor loved Jenga fiercly, he did, but he often got lost not in his workshop, but in the small room on the west side of the house. What was in the west room, exactly, Jenga didn't know, as its door remained locked to her. But she had her suspicions, of what could be dangerous enough that she had to leave the house for hours, or days at a time. Andor was always one to lose track of time, and several nights Jenga would stay in the town's tavern, listening to stories told by drunks or entertainers passing through.</p><p>These times were forgotten, however, when it came time for the yearly trip to Amberstead. Her dad would load up a cart of his finest work, borrow a horse, and Jenga would walk and ride her way with him to the big city. She complained on the way there often enough, but both her dad and she knew that it was her favorite time of all, even if she was with him only because she could not be left for weeks alone. Every trip, she'd beg him to get treats from the bakery, walk hand and hand with him besides the river, and sometime they would buy her a new pair of boots, or a scarf, as she outgrew her old ones.</p><p>This was life for 14 years, until a day that Jenga had spent most of in the woods, her father holed up inside again. </p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Jenga dipped one hand into the stream and watched the water swirl around her fingers. She observed the fish swimming past and tried to grab one, but they evaded her again, as they had countless times. It wasn’t her first time her father kicked her out of the house for an afternoon. Far from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s so boring,” she said out loud. “If I’m not inside helping him clean the workshop, I’m outside while he does his </span>
  <em>
    <span>magic, </span>
  </em>
  <span>or whatever.” She flicked her braid over her shoulder. “That’s fine. I don’t need him.” She stood up and pulled a stick from the ground, walking with it through the woods. She looked up at the orange leaves above her. “Even the trees are boring. They never change.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She whacked a low hanging branch and leaves showered down. One landed on her shoulder and Jenga picked it up. Shiny red with yellow bursting through its veins. She tore it in half and let it fall down. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I bet my mother is somewhere in a woods like this. But way more exciting. I bet she has a ton of friends and goes to parties every night. She’s probably, like, the exact opposite of dad. I bet she’s cool.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga spent several more minutes wandering aimlessly. She came across a rabbit burrow, and spotted a deer far off in the distance. What caught her attention the most, though, was the smell of smoke. Someone was probably cooking. If it was nearly dinner time, Jenga reckoned, she ought to be heading home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She began to retrace her steps, twisting through the trees and jumping over stones across the stream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the distance, smoke billowed over the treetops. Jenga could smell burning wood and leaves. She hurried her pace, starting to worry. This didn’t seem like an ordinary campfire. Through the trees, she saw flickers of red flames. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My house?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She broke into a sprint, leaping over roots and ducking branches. Her heart was pounding in her ears and finally, she stopped in front of a mass of black charred stone and burning timbers. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It is. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad?” Jenga ran around to the front of the house. “Dad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their neighbors began to gather from a distance, but none moved to help. Jenga stood close as she dared to the building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad! Dad, where are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand fell on her shoulder. One of the neighbors, with a graying beard and bright blue eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t see anyone come out,” he said. “It just burst into flame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga pulled away from him and dashed towards what was once the front door, now a gaping hole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, don’t go in, child, are you stupid?” The man made a grab for her but she put on a burst of speed. There was a clamoring behind her but soon all she could hear was the roar of flames and the crashing of wood. She ran for the west side of the house, and found the door to the room there fallen on the ground, blown off its hinges. She ignored the flames rising high, the searing heat on her skin, and instead focused on the only thing remaining in the center of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A body, laying in a near fetal position, with skin charred beyond recognition. The blacked bones of ribs peered out from the torso, and something long and stringy that was burnt as well. Jenga didn’t need face or hair to know who it was, there was only one person this could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad.” Her voice cracked in a whisper and she ran towards him, pulling the body against herself as tears ran down her face, cutting trails in the soot that clung to her skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad, dad no, what did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she held him, someone outside yelled. Water began to fall over the house. The flames began to die. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone else entered the house and pulled Jenga from her dad. She screamed, flailing, but whoever it was carrying her, they were far stronger. She was set down roughly on the ground outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen,” the person said, “I’ve spent the last ten minutes getting that spell to work. The flames are going out. The good news is that the rest of the town is fine. But the bad news… I’m sorry about your father. I never knew him personally but I heard of him. He seemed like a friendly guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga didn’t have anything to say in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your neighbors don’t seem as fond of you, however.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They never have been,” Jenga said, wrapping a shawl around herself tighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you’ll be given much of a place to stay by any of them,” he said. “Do you have money?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga glanced at the skeletal remains of her house and shook her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take these-“ he handed her a few coins- “and get a room at an inn for a few nights before you figure out your next move, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded mutely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be alright, kid.” He began making his way away from the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back. “I’m Forrest. Good meeting you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga watched as he retreated, pushing herself to her feet and clutching the coins against her chest, still unable to fully process anything that happened. As the last of the flames died out, the storm retreated. Overlooked by her neighbors, Jenga set off down the road, overcome with emotion and lost as to her next step. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regardless, she knew she couldn’t afford to look back.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>Following the fire- which Jenga suspected was caused by her father dabbling with things he should have not, old and powerful things at that- Jenga spent a year on the streets, in towns and between them, getting what money she could in what ways she could. She stayed in taverns, and alleyways, and old barns full of hay. It was on such a day that her life changed again. </p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Jenga was sitting on a step out behind the inn, counting coppers in her hand. She had found several in the street, and a kind stranger had given her two, so she reasoned that she had enough to get dinner, if not a bed for the night. That did admittedly bug her- While it wasn’t a cold season yet, the winds had been getting worse, and she suspected a storm would be rolling in soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushed herself to her feet, knowing she still had to cross town to get to where she stashed her things. She began to walk, staying to the side of paths and keeping her head down. She could hear shouting from the taverns and faint music from a nearby street corner. Once, she had entertained dreams of playing an instrument to earn her own coins, but her every attempt proved futile with her lack of musical talent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun was setting lower, and after several more minutes, light lit up the path as it slanted through the trees and between buildings. Jenga found the brick wall she was looking for and pried loose a stone, taking from the space within a knife and a small bundle of her most prized possessions, which consisted of her comb, a scarf, and several small gold beads she found too pretty to pawn off, having collected them when they spilled from the back of a cart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She replaced the brick and began heading for the nearest tavern. Ideally, she’d visit the one a bit farther away, which was always quieter and less heavily frequented by drunks, but she couldn’t afford the prices offered at that location, not tonight. So it was with reluctant acceptance that she entered her least-preferred one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was loud inside, as always. Several large men and what looked to be a half-orc occupied the bar stools, and a group of halflings were drinking in the corner. A lone dwarf ate stew at one of the middle tables, and the primary source of the noise was a rowdy group that seemed to be gambling near the windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga walked to the counter. She ordered a meal with her coppers, and upon receiving it, sat on the far end of the counter, hunched over it and eating quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, kid, looking for a drink?” One of the men at the counter looked at the barkeep. “I’ll get her a mead, nothing too strong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barkeep shrugged and poured Jenga a drink, taking the man’s payment. Jenga accepted it nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she said, because her father had managed to raise her with </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> manners.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like you could use it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga hoped that he would continue making conversation, but he ignored her to talk to his buddies. She sipped the drink slowly, finding it rather palatable, more so than the water from the stream she usually filled her pouch with. When she was full and had no more need to stay, she left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The streets were dark. Jenga knew the path well enough, to get back to the barn she was staying in. The owners of the land hadn’t caught her yet, as she was careful to always leave by dawn. She hadn’t even seen anyone near the barn, and she planned on keeping it that way. She snuck in through the window as she usually did, and settled herself into the hay.</span>
</p><p>----</p><p>
  <span>Her sleep was interrupted by footsteps and a creaking gate. Jenga sat up, alert, and grabbed her knife. Someone was approaching, she could see the flicker of torchlight, and long shadows of people grew longer and closer. She burrowed herself back, bracing one foot against the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is someone here,” a voice said quietly. “Come on out, now, don’t be afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga didn’t move. A face came into view, a tall woman with silver hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, I’m here to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga launched at her, knife at the ready, but the woman was faster, deflecting her easily and disarming her in the process. Jenga watched as her knife skittered across the stones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need for that,” the woman said. “You aren’t in trouble. We know you’ve been using this barn for several nights- Oh, don’t look so scared, I just said you aren’t in trouble! No one owns these lands, or this barn. Not officially, anyway. We use it to find those who need help, and you do look like you need help, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need help from anyone,” Jenga said quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sleeping in a barn, dear. Wouldn’t you like a place to stay, some new clothing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing is free,” Jenga said. If there was anything she had learned in the past year, it was that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are offering you a place to stay, with us. We are a group dedicated to gathering knowledge that may otherwise be lost. We are always looking for bright young minds to join us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga stood and picked hay from her hair. “I’m not all that bright, I’m afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That you’ve been managing by yourself all this time says otherwise. Come, won’t you give a new family a chance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have any family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let us be your new family.” The woman extended a hand and brought Jenga closer. “I’m Elder Razia, and this is Sister Kimli. What’s your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jenga.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We hope you’ll enjoy your time with us, Jenga. Come, we can make it home before dawn if we hurry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Home?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>----</p><p>
  <span>When Jenga arrived at ‘home’, she was amazed. It was all underground, save for a large domed ceiling window that was somehow illusioned from above. The whole place was filled with books, and mulling with people in long robes and dresses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elder Razia was giving a speech of sorts to her. “Here, as scholars, we aim to record all knowledge that is at threat of being lost, and we try to learn as much as we can. We call ourselves scholars because we believe in the values of learning, and that by learning all we can, we become living records of information. You do value information, don’t you, Jenga?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga was wide-eyed at the possibilities. She could learn anything here! She’d never be bored, surely!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” she responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s excellent. Everyone you see here has been with us for quite some time, although we have a handful of newer members. Most stay with us for their whole lives, and have been here for years. It’s beautiful to see, people growing with the knowledge they take in.” She turned and showed Jenga her ear. It had a gorgeous earring with a long, trailing chain of small red beads- Jenga estimated at least 30.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These are very special, unique to our group. Each bead represents two years spent with us, although you do start off with a single one. Would you like one of your own?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga couldn’t stop staring. She nodded mutely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad to hear that. Sister Kimli, please take Jenga to receive her garments before bringing her to the atrium.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga followed Sister Kimli, who had curling blond hair. She wore an earring with 10 red beads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have you been part of the scholars?” Jenga asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“19 years,” she answered, motioning to the earring dismissively. “I was born here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It must have been amazing, being part of such a large family your whole life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sister Kimli paused and gave Jenga a small smile. “Yes, I suppose so. Here we are.” She knocked on a door that had geometrical designs carved into the wood, as well as a symbol of a crow with a feathered pen in its beak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s our symbol,” she explained briefly to Jenga. “Crows are very smart, and they have a keen memory-” The door swung open. “Brother Alderic, we have a new sister joining us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga had not been expecting a dwarf, but before her stood one just an inch or so shorter than she was, and he had a wide grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent,” was all he said. “Come, come, let me get you settled.” He held a fine gold chain up to the light, then lined it up with Jenga’s ear so fast she found herself moving backwards as he moved his hand towards her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy there, I need to measure where to cut it.” He marked a point with his fingers. “Right. Take a dress from the closet over there and stick with Sister Kimli once you’re wearing it.” He took some small pliers from a drawer and began working.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can change in the room here, Jenga.” Sister Kimli said. Jenga entered a small, closet-like space with a dress that was smoother than any fabric she had felt before. She shed her current tunic and pants- both of which were ill fitting by now anyways- and put on the new dress, smoothing her hands down the side in awe. The top part of the dress wrapped around the neck and flowed down to be fitted in at the waist, where it flared out slightly in a gentle silver tone. The red upper part had a wide strip overlapping the gray, where it hung down in the front, with a white stripe in the center that went up to form a hollow diamond shape over her torso.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She emerged from the closet and Sister Kimli clapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks lovely on you, Jenga. Are you ready to join us? Elder Razia is waiting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga nodded and followed her. They went to a raised wooden platform under the glass dome, and Jenga noticed an audience forming around her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jenga- Dear, you’ve never told me if you have a surname.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Squallsong,” Jenga said with a blush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jenga Squallsong. Do you promise to uphold our traditions and practices, to keep them in mind and memory?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you promise to learn all you are able to, and to teach it all in turn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you promise to be a part of the scholars, giving yourself to be a living record of all information you learn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I tell you the greatest words of the scholars, which are these: No knowledge is forbidden knowledge. Anything is attainable with enough work, and dedication, and it is our solemn duty to bear the burden of higher knowledge. Do you accept this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elder Razia turned to Brother Alderic, who was waiting at her side with a strange tool in hand. “Brother, if you would?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came around to Jenga’s side and reached up to her ear. Jenga jumped when she felt a sharp pinch that was followed by a phantom heat that ran through her ear, tingling. Then came a second one, and she squirmed a bit as a golden chain was passed through one hole and clipped to another. When she caught a flash of red in the corner of her vision, though, she beamed proudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome, Sister Jenga.” Elder Razia said. Resounding applause filled the room. “We are all happy to have you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>----</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga quickly learned that being a ‘living record of information’ meant lots of reading, and often times reading the same passage over and over again. She learned tricks to help her memorize entire chapters of text, and the first time she was able to summarize the contents of an entire book from memory, she was given a chance to help younger members learn as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t as fun as she had hoped, at first. She found interest in the pages around her, but much of the library was off limits to her until she learned enough. She didn’t know what qualified ‘enough’ until one day she found herself being led to an area she had never been to before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elder Razia thinks you’re ready for these,” Sister Kimli said. “These are tomes dealing with more than just philosophy and old journals records. These are about society and the inner workings of it. How empires rise and fall. Records of wars and coronations. Important knowledge, Sister Jenga. And she wants you to work on a very special part of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She does?” Jenga was thrilled. “I’d be happy to, Sister Kimli. What’s the project?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sister Kimli brought her to a shelf of scrolls. “You need to record the events described in these scrolls in chronological order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’ll take forever,” Jenga gasped, looking at the volume of paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t we have as much time as we need at our disposal? There’s no rush to learn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga had opened a scroll and was squinting at it. “Sister Kimli, this isn’t in Common.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sister Kimli leaned over her shoulder. “No, that’s the draconic alphabet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know Draconic!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jenga nearly screeched. Sister Kimli wasn’t fazed by this, and only gave a sly smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then learn it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>----</b>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jenga got her second bead, she was introduced to new knowledge, of different planes and otherworldly power. She didn’t see Sister Kimli as often, and spent most of her time in a different part of the underground complex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elder Jalin,” she said, “who’s that, over there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The tiefling in a red robe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s Sister Descendence. She’s been with us for nearly 40 years, now, and she’s recently become a Warlock Initiate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh? I’ve never heard that title before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s less of a title and more of a descriptor. A warlock is someone who’s made a pact with a higher being for power, as you know by now, and as an initiate she’s made a pact, not for full warlock abilities but for knowledge nonetheless, which is a very noble thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long did that take her?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>She must have been studying for decades!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“She only managed it recently. It took her years of trying, and it was risky, especially as she had her eye on a more powerful being. She wasn’t sure if she had enough knowledge yet. We were all so proud when her ritual went right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happens if rituals go wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Many things can happen, most of them horrible. We all hope the worst doesn’t happen, but every experience can be learned from, can it not? Enough getting distracted. Tell me, what does this text tell you about Gehenna?”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>From the moment she joined the cult, the 'scholars', Jenga studied. She wasn't the biggest fan of books and academics, but those around her certainly were, and it was so easy to fall into a pattern, to trust in what you were told and do what you were told to do. For the longest time, Jenga didn't question what she was being made to do. But there are things that can wear you down, over time. Things that force you to confront you morals, to twist them just so you can stand the things you do.</p><p>Jenga spent 5 years with the scholars, best described in the following stories.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Age 16:</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga flipped through the book, the scent of dust assaulting her nose. She wrinkled it, remembering how for her first several months as a part of the scholars she was tasked with upkeep and maintenance of the books.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Are the new members not doing their jobs properly? I could assist them, maybe, show them how to do it-</span>
  </em>
  <span> her thought stopped as she found the writing she was looking for, slowly translating it from Draconic to Common. A grin spread over her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look happy today. Find something interesting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga nearly slammed the book shut, and saw her mentor staring at her with an playful look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sister Kimli,” she groaned, “please stop sneaking up on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed and sat on the bench next to Jenga, glancing at the light that filtered in lazy beams from the glass dome above, before peering over Jenga’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those are words I doubt appear anywhere in the scrolls,” she said teasingly. Jenga yanked the book further from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she said, “they aren’t.” Then she snickered to herself, “maybe I can use these to talk about Elder Razia behind her back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She understands at least twenty languages, that wouldn’t work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, well, it’s a funny thought.” Jenga twirled the end of her braid around a finger. “How have your studies been going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well. I’ve been looking into old druidic traditions with Elder Phylos. He’s very knowledgeable. I’ve also been getting closer to my peers. My current assigned mentor, her name is Sister May, she’s very sweet and patient.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds awesome,” Jenga said. “Like, the opposite of-” she squinted at a page and pronounced a Draconic word, the syllables harsh in her throat. “I don’t think I said that right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard Elder Razia say something like that before,” Kimli said. “Which reminds me, she mentioned you the other day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I think she’s starting to find a path for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga’s heart leapt in excitement. “Oh, that’s fantastic! Any ideas what it may be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. But I know that she’d only put you on a path that you’ll excel in, so whatever you end up studying, I’m sure you’ll do great.” The sound of a bell chimed through the atrium, marking the eleventh hour of the day. Kimli got up and brushed dust from her dress. “I’m going to make sure our newest member- Brother Vickrin, he’s very nice, uh… I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get lost trying to find the dining room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga waved goodbye, and continued reading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Age 17:</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a pleasure to have you as my pupil, Sister Jenga,” Elder Jalin told her. He was a tall half-orc man, with a neatly trimmed black goatee and ruffled hair, his skin green but leaning more toward gray. He carried at his side a large tome of some sorts, and wore a belt with many vials and pouches affixed to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The pleasure is all mine, Elder Jalin. Elder Razia said you were to instruct me on my path?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I will be your teacher for your remaining years as a member of the scholars- Until you achieve the status of an Elder, that is, which will be a day for me to rejoice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What exactly are you going to teach me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elder Jalin smiled. “I’m glad you asked. Please, follow me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She went with him down a hall and through a stone archway she had never passed before. The hall was well lit with torches, but had a subtle chill to it all the same. They passed several doors before coming to one with a large lock. It seemed to be open at the moment, however, because Elder Jalin pushed it open easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside was a round room of benches surrounding a raised platform, not unlike the stand in the middle of the atrium. But this platform was not wood but smooth, polished stone, and had around it what looked like workspaces, some of which were still covered in things like jewels and powdered herbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is where most instruction and demonstration takes place,” he said, “we use this room for most of our rituals, though we have a separate one for anything more dangerous than simple summonings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what I’ll be learning to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That, and so much more. You see, Sister Jenga-” he began to pace around the platform, and Jenga followed him, “-There is more than this world we live on. There are planes overlapping our own, separate but with immeasurable layers, places where creatures we cannot even begin to fathom reside, with knowledge far greater than our own. What better place to get knowledge than from those who know it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you summon creatures from these planes to learn from them,” Jenga said slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a quick learner, I like to see that. I’d like to introduce you to your new mentor, who will help guide you through studying what I teach.” He knocked against a door set into an alcove in the wall. It was opened by a gnome with a mane of fiery red hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, is this her? Good to meet you, I’m Sister Kenna!” She shook Jenga’s hand. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun here, I know it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sister Kenna has been studying on this path for a few months,” Elder Jalin said, “so in addition to being able to help you, the two of you will be working side by side in many cases. Sister Jenga, you will be moving into her rooms tonight. Get breakfast early tomorrow- at 6th bell, perhaps- I begin my first lecture at 8th.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Age 18: </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess what I got!” Jenga sang out as she entered the room. Kenna looked up from her book and her legs, which had been swinging back and forth over the edge of the bed, stilled to a halt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga grinned and reached below the shawl she wore over her dress- even underground, the building got cold on occasion in the winter. She pulled from under her other arm a slim but tall bottle full of amber liquid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sister Jenga, is that-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mead!” Jenga crowed victoriously. She sat besides Kenna, making the bed bounce. “You got any cups?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sister, we aren’t supposed to be drinking when we have a ritual to attend early tomorrow- Where did you even get that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Found it,” Jenga said, “in the library. Elder Jalin let me into a restricted area, and I found this stashed behind some old books. Think he has a secret supply?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If anyone has a secret supply,” Kenna said, slowly getting cups from the sack at the end of her bed, “it would be Elder Razia, probably. It’s probably really exhausting, keeping track of so much knowledge. It’s an honor, though, I imagine.” She grinned and passed Jenga a cup. “Alright, alright, I’ll have just a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga grinned and uncorked the bottle, pouring it into both cups equally. She tapped her cup against Kenna’s and downed her whole portion in nearly a single gulp, holding it in her mouth a moment and savoring the taste before swallowing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t had good mead in a few years,” she said before finishing it. Kenna looked down into her cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really shouldn’t,” she said. She held it out to Jenga. “You want to finish it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga slowly accepted the cup. “Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have two rituals tomorrow, not just the instructional one I’m doing with you. Elder Razia is going to be showing me some more advanced things. I think I should be in top shape for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough.” Jenga finished the cup, corked the bottle, and went to her bed. She took her silver dagger and slit open the mattress, stuffing the bottle inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got a needle and thread?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hiding it. Do you have a needle and thread?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga got what she needed and secured the mattress well as she could. “Perfect. So, this ritual tomorrow, any idea what we’re doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a clue. Something new, though. Get some sleep, Sister Jenga, it’s getting late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Jenga changed from her dress into a simple nightgown. “Goodnight, Sister Kenna.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Age 19:</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy fucking shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her eyes were wide as the pillar of fire shot from the platform, about four feet into the air before it shot down. She hadn’t been expecting that. Elder Jalin was nodding approvingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good, Sister Jenga. That’s what should happen. Now, give it one more shot, and really focus this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga sighed. “Elder Jalin, I’m just not getting the hang of it! I know I’m not very good at magic. I don’t exactly have innate talent and the books just don’t make much sense. I’m trying, I really am, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sister Jenga, there is no need to doubt yourself. With enough practice, anyone can learn to do this. It may not be the sort of magic done by most spellcasters of the world, but it can reap rewards far greater in power, and more importantly, knowledge.” He smiled at her encouragingly. “Go on, try again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga nodded, taking another pinch of yellow sulphur. She once again repeated the incantation she had memorized, and threw the powder into the circle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A burst of flames erupted once again. Jenga was pleased to see instead of vanishing, they surged up to be about as tall as she was, taking the form of a figure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well done!” Elder Jalin said. He passed her a vial of water and Jenga took it with shaking hands. “Now, banish it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga gathered her intention and tossed the water towards the spirit, but instead of sending it back to where it came from, the water hissed against the flames and was instantly evaporated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, dear-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spirit looked at Jenga and raised a flaming hand, swinging it towards her, the heat of it searing against her face. Jenga quickly stepped to the side as Elder Jalin stepped forward, neatly flicking water in an arc that cut through the being, prompting it to vanish. Several other watching scholars had stepped forward, but seeing it was safe now, they returned to their places, watching. Elder Jalin placed a hand on Jenga’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine. I’m sorry, I should have handled that better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s natural to not get it right on the first time, Sister Jenga, don’t be discouraged. This is the path that is right for you. I have confidence in your abilities, you need to as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The following day, Jenga had been brought into a conference with Elder Jalin and a few others, some of whom wore the red robes of those who had become warlock initiates- or perhaps there were full warlocks, Jenga hadn’t a clue. Instead of in an office, they met in the separate ritual room, where benches had been placed in a circle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have a seat, Sister Jenga.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga did so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My colleagues and I have been discussing your recent progress. More specifically, your difficulties summoning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Jenga said, “uh, am I in trouble or something? I really have been trying…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no. We figured your talents may be used elsewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga looked up, eyes wide. “You’re assigning me somewhere else?” It wouldn’t be the worse thing, to be put on a different path, but she had already spent nearly three years on her current one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You misunderstand me. You have quite a talent with words. Your written work is always well worded, despite your handwriting needing improvement, and you can keep remarkably calm when faced with something that would shake others. For example, the incident yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I didn’t really… There was no danger, I knew you would banish it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And there will always be someone on hand to banish whatever it is we summon, of course. We take exceptional precautions. But we need you to do the talking for us. Speaking to fiends can be a tricky task, and it takes skill like yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to talk to devils, is what you’re saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” Elder Jalin leaned forward towards her. “I’m going to let you in on some information you are forbidden to tell anyone who is not both in this group and of three beads or more, do you understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. You have been learning about devils and such fiends, but you have not yet interacted with them, you have only seen them from an observational distance. Well, we do more than that, Sister Jenga. We are scholars, collectors of information. Sometimes that information comes at a price.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to have me, like, sell my soul for information, right?” If she was ever to sell her soul, Jenga thought, it would be for something she wanted, not for the sake of the scholars. Perhaps it was a selfish thought. She cast it aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’ll be bartering different souls. Sister Descendence, if you will?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red-robed tiefling opened a door and a human girl stepped through. She looked remarkably plain, with long and straight light brown hair, and gray-blue eyes. Nothing in particular stood out to Jenga about her, except for how she fidgeted with her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Nora,” she said to Jenga. “I’m pretty sure, um… You’ll be bartering my soul.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Your soul? Elder Jalin, are you sure about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nora has been compensated well,” he said. “She volunteered herself for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” Nora said stubbornly. “Some members of your organization were able to cure my mother and little brother of a sickness that would have killed them. I am paying for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga nodded slowly. If she could have done something similar, to have both her father and mother with her…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she said, then, “wait, right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will be guiding you through it, of course,” Elder Jalin said, “since it is your first time. And as I have said, we have safety measures in place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Jenga said shakily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other Elders and older members began their summoning as Elder Jalin told Jenga the details of what she was to do. She was to negotiate a deal- Nora’s soul for as much information regarding fiends as possible. The information was to be written down on paper, in Common, and given straight to Elder Jalin. Once the information was secured in his possession, the deal would be complete.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga felt the room fill with heat, could smell smoke and brimstone, and eventually, Elder Jalin motioned for her to approached the platform. Jenga walked up the steps, and saw what they had summoned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a large creature of bone and taunt skin, wings like those of a dragonfly but far more ragged around the edge. It had a tail with a single menacing barb at the end. Jenga’s one relief was that it was securely contained, behind wards that shimmered in the air and runes glowing on the ground, layering magical defenses- not to protect the devil from the scholars, but to protect them from the devil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She began with an introduction, and the process began. The bone devil argued that it had no reason to divulge information- Jenga argued that the offer of a soul to corrupt was one that was worth it. The devil argued that it could take her soul instead, surely she was willing to spare the girl from damnation- Jenga refused. The devil would take Nora’s soul, she told it, and in exchange, tell them everything it could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t sure how long it took, but at last the agreement was done. The devil had written down the information promised, and Nora had signed an agreement in turn. Elder Jalin banished the devil, and Sister Descendence led Nora out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long did that take?” Jenga asked, accepting the water he handed her. Her hands were shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was a two hour conversation. I am very impressed by how well you did, Jenga. You’ll be more than ready for your next one, three days from now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m doing it again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Be proud, Sister, you’ve found your path.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did I really find anything, though? I was sort of put onto this path…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am, Elder Jalin,” she responded aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Age 20:</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Twice weekly, for nearly a year, with few exceptions, Jenga had conversed with fiends. She never quite got over it, and sometimes she thought she had seen the most horrific sort of forms only to be proved wrong just days later. The days in between she spent studying with what energy she had, her nights filled with dreams of the things she had seen and the people she had damned. Many months after she started her job as a correspondent between the scholars and the fiends, Elder Jalin called her into his office, a hexagonal room with a dark metal desk and wooden shelves of books and potions around the sides. Jenga sat in a chair with a plush cushion. Across from her, Elder Jalin sat in a similar one. They had finished exchanging pleasantries, and it seemed he was approaching what he really wanted to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sister Jenga.” He folded his hands in front of him. “It’s been a while since you began your determined path. I’m very proud with how you’ve been doing. We’ve gathered much information from your endeavors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not that I would know</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jenga thought. She never got to see much of what was on the papers, save for what she glimpsed on occasion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elder Jalin produced from his desk a crystal vial, and set it in front of Jenga with a small ringing noise as it hit the metal surface. “This is something I only ask of those who I can see making astounding progress on this path. In the years I have known you, you’ve proven yourself to have the drive to learn all you can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What else am I supposed to do here? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jenga watched him a touch warily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I ask of you is your trust.” He retrieved a ceremonial looking dagger from his drawer and placed it in Jenga’s hand, closing her fingers around the hilt. “As I trust you.” He looked in her eyes and Jenga was startled by how bare she felt under his gaze. “I would like for you to fill this vial with your blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was silent. Jenga was acutely aware of her breathing, fast paced, and tried to steady it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice sounding very alone in the overwhelming silence that surrounded them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elder Jalin remained silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did Sister Kenna also have to do this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She got no response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga stared into the vial like it held all the answers. “What will you do with it?” The only purpose she could think of was just blood as a spell component. And it did make sense that getting blood from willing scholars would be easier than getting it from strangers. This was most likely just what he said it was- a test of trust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he spoke. “What I ask of you is trust. I would like for you to fill the vial with your blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga’s mind was clear, there was no strange magic affecting her. She slowly moved the blade to her left palm, moving her hand over the vial.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, but gently, Elder Jalin’s hands grabbed hers, holding them still. He once again looked her in the eye. “Do you give this willingly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scholars had sheltered and fed her for five years, taking her in as a student to learn things many would never get the chance to even hear about, see things few others would ever lay eyes on. Jenga thought of Sister Kimli, and Sister Kenna, and the other individuals she had worked with. She was doing this for all of them, she had promised to, back when she joined- promised to uphold their traditions, to learn, to teach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.” This time, Jenga’s voice filled the room, and she grit her teeth as she slid the dagger over her palm, dripping blood into the vial. When it was full, Elder Jalin whisked it away and placed it somewhere behind his desk, presenting her with a cloth. Jenga wrapped her hand carefully. The cloth seemed to magically close the wound, leaving only a stain of red on the cloth to show she had ever bled at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Sister Jenga,” he told her. “You may leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bit woozy, Jenga left his office. She stumbled down the hall, making it only to the bathrooms before entering, leaning against the sink and staring at herself in the mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did not see the same girl she expected to. She saw tired eyes, bags hanging below them. She saw a mouth that hadn’t formed a genuine smile in a long while. She looked down and saw hands, one bandaged with a bloodstain and the other stained with ink. When she looked back up at her reflection, she saw an expression of regret.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve been such a fool, haven’t I?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jenga furrowed her brows. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know the slightest thing about this place, come to think of it. I haven’t even been enjoying myself here, what the fuck am I doing? I’ve spent five years learning all I can, always chasing the promise of more, but if I don’t enjoy learning, what the hell is the point of learning more as a reward?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She reached into the basin in front of her with her unwounded hand and gently splashed her face. It ran down her cheeks and neck, dampening the collar of her dress.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What am I doing here? This isn’t the place for me. How did I end up here? Why did I-</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jenga slammed her fist against the counter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need to leave. This isn’t going to end well. If I don’t leave, I’ll be going down the same path Dad did. I don’t know what exactly he was trying to do in the west room, but I know whatever he was doing somehow started that fire. I can’t risk that, I… I’ve been getting too involved already. I can’t take this anymore, I don’t want to trade the souls of others for information I don’t even get to see-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand was trembling- her whole body was- but she didn’t notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m an idiot. Gods above, I’m stupid. This isn’t good, this… If the amount of fiends I’ve spoken to has any part of it, I’m going to hell for sure, but I’ve been good as damning others, for the sake of who, exactly? Not myself, that’s for sure.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked in the mirror again, nothing but pure determination in her gaze, with a stubbornness that would have looked unnatural on anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m leaving. Soon as I can, I don’t care how… I’m leaving and I’m not coming back.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face changed again. Perfectly composed. She loosened her braid, combed wet fingers through her hair, redid it as best she could. She cleaned her wound and bandaged it up again. She dried her face on a cloth.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is not where I want to be.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m leaving.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>And finally, Jenga found the strength to leave.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Elder Razia looked at her from behind thick glasses. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga stood her ground. “I want to leave the scholars for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sister Jenga, you must understand, this is highly irregular-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Which is why I’m explaining myself to you. I think I can find more knowledge out there than I can here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got centuries of knowledge here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And most of it has already been studied. Elder Razia, I want to find new knowledge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And get away from this place</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jenga thought, but she kept that to herself. She had had quite enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a noble goal,” Elder Razia agreed. “Elder Jalin, how has Sister Jenga progressed in her studies with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Within as soon as three years I think we could have quite a skilled practitioner of my craft. She has proven herself invaluable to our cause and she is a very enthusiastic study.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CAUSE THERE IS LITERALLY NOTHING TO DO HERE- Breath, Jenga. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>After five years with the scholars and little progress, Jenga knew she had to get out. It had all become to much for her- talking to fiends, bartering people’s souls for information… It was beginning to weigh on her, and Jenga couldn’t help but think that one day it would be too much, that it would all go wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, do you have someone who could take her place, should she leave? A new correspondent?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sister Kenna is more than prepared to do so, I believe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga felt a sharp pinch of guilt. She really didn’t want Sister Kenna to have to do what she had done- But she also wanted to get out, and she was closer than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is why I think I’d be more useful gathering knowledge elsewhere,” Jenga said. “Surely you understand? The quest for knowledge is always expansive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see there will be no changing your mind, then.” Elder Razia took Jenga’s hand in her own. Her skin seemed almost paper thin, but her hands were smooth as Jenga remembered them being five years before. “Come, I will give you some money and help you get on your way. You’ll need a new outfit, after all. When will you return to us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I’ve expanded my knowledge properly,” Jenga said, focused entirely on the fact that </span>
  <em>
    <span>she had done it, she was about to leave at last</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will all await your return with excitement, then.” Elder Razia smiled. “Remember, Jenga: No knowledge is forbidden knowledge, not with enough experience.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Jenga left, those words ringing in her ears, she didn’t look back.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>After leaving the cult behind, Jenga found a group of bandits. Or, rather, they found her. She proved herself to be cunning enough to impress them, and she found a place amongst them. She was given two daggers and taught how to use them, though it was about a month before they drew any blood for the first time. Jenga spent her time with these new friends on the road and at their various camps, setting up tents whenever and stealing from passing carts along the Cellar Road, the trade route for mead, wine, and other alcohol. Jenga found it to be a suitable life for her. She got drunk frequently, wrestled with her companions, dared them to do often stupid things, and accepted some pretty stupid dares herself. On day, they were in a tavern in a town near Maplewood, celebrating a successful job. Jenga had just knocked back perhaps her fifth or sixth glass- to this day, she'd be unable to tell you. </p><p>It had been a slip of the tongue, really, mentioning how speaking to crooks like them had never phased her, not when she had stared devils in the face. That roused questions, which led to doubt, which led to Jenga's stupid, stupid need to prove herself. They said despite all her talk, surely she wouldn't be able to summon anything. Not when she clearly had barely done so before.</p><p>That night changed Jenga's life.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“You don’t think I can?” Jenga finished her mug of mead in a single swig. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You tell us. Me and the boys heard you talking about it all. You sounded like you know what you’re talking about.” He grinned with yellow teeth. “Up for a challenge?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t think I can do it, you’re sorely mistaken.” Jenga pushed back her chair, feeling hot in the veins. She couldn’t let this thug intimidate her, not when she had been on jobs with him for two years now. She knew these folks. Always wanted more than what they could have. She had to pull them out of sticky situations before- although she ignored that fact that she was the cause of most of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s head to that nearby clearing, then, yeah? Show us what you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga glared and tossed a coin onto the table for the maple mead. “Let’s go. I look forward to proving you wrong.”</span>
</p><p>----</p><p>
  <span>In the clearing, the breeze tossed up browned leaves, and a few scraps of paper fluttered by. Jenga knelt on the dirt of an area she had cleared out, checking that the symbols she had learned from the cult were all correct. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your own father died trying to do this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and you have the audacity to attempt it on a dare?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga pushed the thought aside. She lit the candles and began to speak words she knew the bandits would not understand. But they didn’t have to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their skeptical whispering faded as the candles started to flicker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the wind,” they said. “Just the wind,” they said as the leaves flew in tight spirals, clearing a wider circle free from leaves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps the alcohol cleared her mind for once instead of inhibiting it. But Jenga was entirely in her zone now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ground below her began to shake. The air around her turned stiflingly hot. Some of the bandits began to run. Others stayed on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An acrid smell like smoke and struck flint filled the air. The area in front of her began to glow brightly, and Jenga turned her head away. The remaining bandits fled, and she alone remained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light ended. Jenga blinked, trying to clear her vision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not even going to look at me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga’s heart skipped a beat and she looked up. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was tall. Seven feet at least. Black eyes, red skin-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve actually done it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite having spoken to fiends before Jenga had never actually ever summoned anything save for certain sorts of spirits, under the guidance of a cult member. She had certainly never summoned a… whatever this was, though the basic form looked vaguely familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” she said, the word coming out in a single breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She speaks!” The creature folded his arms and his wings flared. In a voice far more stern, he questioned, “why have you summoned me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to,” Jenga said. Oh, shit, she was usually better at talking than this. She was starting to regret the drinks she had. Or perhaps she had lost her talent in the two years it had been since she left the cult.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you just made these symbols and lit the candles by accident?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Jenga shook her head. “I mean, no. Fuck! I’m drunk. It was a dare, my friends…” she looked around, very much aware by now that all her ‘friends’ had fled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You summoned me on a dare?” The being looked down. “Impressive, given that you clearly had no idea what you were even trying to summon.” His foot scuffed over a line. “This is useless for containing me, you ought to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, double shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jenga’s heart raced in her chest. She must have messed something up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really sorry,” she apologized, “I… I think I can send you back-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need your help returning home.” He looked around at the trees and the remarkably empty clearing. “Some friends you have, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may know me as Lorcan. You have summoned me from Malbolge, the sixth layer of the Nine Hells.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lorcan. A cambion. Jenga struggled to recall more than that from her learnings. There was something about him being nearly executed for some reason, but then he wasn’t, and… she couldn’t remember. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still. Lorcan wasn’t any being she wanted to be on the bad side of. She felt her drunkenness fading fast, being replaced by a headache. Or maybe it was just a headache on top of everything else. Really, it was an all-too-familiar feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Uh, I’m Jenga Squallsong. I’m sorry for summoning you here, sir, I swear I didn’t mean to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jenga Squallsong.” Lorcan raised a brow and Jenga could have sworn she somehow saw amusement in those eyes like coal. “What would you say to a deal?”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>Jenga knew, deep down, it was ill advised. For many months, in the past, she had to contend with the whisperings of fiends, and the promises they gave, and not once had she wavered in her resolve.</p><p>But the devil- half-devil -was already here. Free to do as he wished. Which could quite possibly mean he would kill her just for having the arrogance to summon him. Somewhere in the rapidly clearing drunken fog, Jenga understood this as well.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“A deal?” That raised some red flags. “What sort of a deal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this the life you want?” He gestured towards the town, rooftops barely visible through the trees. “A different tavern every night, dodging authorities, robbing for a living?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jenga said, “but it isn’t that bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’ve never wanted more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga had no answer. It was obvious, of course she did. The bandits were friends, nearly family, but they would never care about her more than as a partner in crime. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can help you,” Lorcan said quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want fulfillment in your life, am I wrong? You want to fit in? I can’t blame you. Yourself being half-elf, and myself being half-fiend… I can understand your desires. I can help you achieve them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With what in return, sir? I’m no fool.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, nothing bad,” Lorcan said. “I may ask for some odd favors. And I do get terribly bored sometimes. Would it be too much to ask to watch a fight break out or a chase through the streets?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to start fights and rob people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that not what you do already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga shrugged. “Okay, fair. And you’ll… help me find fulfillment? Feel like I belong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, I understand your plight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And another thing. You’re not quite suited for life changing experiences, are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d dare say I’ve had plenty of them to be prepared, sir, all due respect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I wouldn’t dare invalidate them. But I meant in terms of combat. Change takes effort. Are you willing to fight for it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga’s hand fell to the dagger at her belt, and she tugged the handle of the one concealed in her boot high enough to show Lorcan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve experienced combat before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What experience do you have with magic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Magic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like a gate had been opened up. Jenga had never considered magic all that much. A few members of the bandit group had a few tricks up their sleeves with clever illusions, but never more than that. And she had heard stories as well. What she did with the cult had never felt like magic to her either- not when so much of her time was spent researching with her nose in a book, or simply going through negotiations with fiends that she hadn’t even summoned herself; one of the reasons why she was so eager to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Magic like the kind wielded in battle, the kind told in stories of heroes? That intrigued her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But still… “I don’t really have any experience,” she confessed. “Past, you know…” she motioned towards the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.” Lorcan wore a haughty grin. “I could grant you magic, you know. You could wield raw power at your </span>
  <em>
    <span>fingertips</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jenga. Blast your opponents with sheer force at will. If you’d just let me help you in such a way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I assume this comes with a cost of its own?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. In exchange for power, and the advice you seek, I require not only favors but also your soul.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>My soul?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sir, I can’t just-“ She should have seen it coming, really.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be collected upon your death,” Lorcan continued. “And a half elf has a lifespan of at least 180 years, so don’t be frugal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do I know you won’t just kill me right away?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A deal is a deal, Jenga. I help you feel fulfilled in life. A fulfilling life is usually a long one, at least, that is what I understand most define it as?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’ll give me magic that’s… necessary for a fulfilling life?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Certainly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I’d be trading favors and my soul, for your life advice and... magic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Do try and relax, I’ve done this all before. I had another warlock, back in the day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A warlock. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jenga smiled a bit at the thought. Wouldn’t that be grand? Cultist, bandit, </span>
  <em>
    <span>warlock…</span>
  </em>
  <span> What was one more label to add to the pile? She had assurance, now, that she'd be fulfilled one day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll even spice up the deal for you,” Lorcan said, snapping his fingers. “I’ll help you take over the bandits. You can be their leader for a time. See how you like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga nodded. She needed no more time to think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a deal, sir.” She stood and held out her hand, nearly shuddering when rough fingers clasped around it. She stood there for a moment, wondering if that was it, when she felt like something was moving under her skin just below her collarbone, in thin burning lines. She gasped and nearly dropped his hand, but he held her firm, his eyes boring into hers. Finally, the odd sensation faded. Jenga hastily peeled off her armor and tugged down her shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just over her heart was a marking of two diamonds within each other, two lines at the top and bottom of the innermost one extending outwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a helpful little mark to let you know if I’m around,” Lorcan said. “You’ll feel it if I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga was looking at her hands. “And I have magic now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lorcan seemed like he found something about this rather funny. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga pointed at a large fallen log, but nothing happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to know what you’re doing, of course,” Lorcan said. “Try this one- I think you’ll like it- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eldritch Blast</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He pronounced each syllable carefully. “It will create a sort of purple lightning with quite a wonderful affect. Just cast the spell, and the power will come to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga nodded, and focused on the log. “Eldritch blast,” she muttered under her breath, and this time, instead of pointing, she found herself taking a stance and thrusting her hands forward. A bolt of purple magic shot out and hit the log with a blast, cracking the wood into splintery halves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Jenga said out loud. She looked at her hands again. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are other such spells,” Lorcan said rather dismissively. “Minor Illusion, Hellish Rebuke, Arms of Hadar… those last two may take a bit out of you, though.” He noticed her rapt attention as she tried to take in all of what he was saying. “Don’t worry too much, you’ll pick more up eventually. Start small for now, you have all the power you need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga had never wanted to keep a conversation going more in her life. Lorcan seemed to sense her disappointment that it was all he had to say on the topic and smiled deviously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just uphold your part of our pact, Jenga Squallsong, and I’ll uphold mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, sir.” Jenga was still in a fair bit of shock. “I’ll do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s best that you do. I don’t know how often I’ll be able to see you in person- no, you won’t have to summon me every time. This was an accident, yes? I’m capable of traveling myself. Regardless, I’ll still be keeping an eye on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jenga!” Footsteps crunched over the leaves, approaching fast. “Jenga, we heard a blast, are you-“ the bandit’s eyes widened. “That </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> is still here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes,” Lorcan said. “There is one part of our deal I suppose I can do right away.” He stepped over the circle in the dirt and the bandit began to back away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Lorcan nearly crooned, “here’s how it’s going to be from now on…”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>Jenga quickly established her spot as the leader of the bandits. Not that any would contest it when several of them had seen the fiend she was now in a pact with. She wasn't entirely content with this, but she was good at it, good enough to get what the group needed as seasons changed, and winter began thawing to spring, and she was good enough to keep her crew out of legal trouble.</p><p>But the pact had been made, and it was there, and eventually, Lorcan returned.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Jenga was surrounded by a group of bandits, a drink in one hand and a dagger in the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then I went behind him,” she said, “and-“ she made a motion, “brought the dagger to his neck, and within minutes the wagon was emptied.” This statement was met with wild cheers. Her story done, chatter broke out in groups. Jenga leaned back against a log and took a moment to relax. Leading the bandit group had proved to be a bit difficult at times, but she enjoyed moments like these after difficult jobs. She returned the dagger to her belt and took a swig from her bottle. She wasn’t nearly drunk, but camping so close to a town, she really didn’t want to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The alcohol burned down her throat and she nearly missed the faint warmth she felt on her chest, just over her heart. She froze, thinking for a moment she was imagining it, but felt a distinctive pulse like a second heartbeat that she knew only meant one thing. Her patron was near. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me, friends,” she said. “I’ll return, have no fear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They laughed and returned to their conversations easily. Jenga walked into the woods, letting the pulse grow stronger until she reached a small clearing amongst the trees, at which point it stopped altogether. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing there expectantly was the cambion Lorcan. He looked just as she remembered. Red skin and black eyes, with a wild mane of dark hair, and two wings that were half curled around him at this time, nearly casually. It would be a lie to say that she felt no fear or anxiety- Jenga tucked her fingers in her belt loops to keep her hands from shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You called, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you enjoying your new position?” Asked Lorcan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a bit tough sometimes. I like it, though. We had a pretty good run yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Lorcan made nearly a tutting noise. “Not content, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Jenga sighed and shook her head. “Honestly, not really. I thought it would suit me better but… it’s just not me, fun though it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps you need something new, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you feel about adventuring?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sure. Is it quite different from robbing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite. It would be an excellent way to put those new powers of yours to use. Plus, I think it’ll lead you down the right path. To the fulfillment you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga thought it over. Bouncing around from place to place, thing to thing, none of that was new to her anymore. Adventuring would at least never get boring, that much she knew. And the allure of meeting new people, possibly making new friends… that was tempting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, alright,” Jenga conceded. “Bandits are fun, but I suppose adventuring could be the way to go, if you’re certain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’m down. Where do I start?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lorcan looked her over with an appraising eye. “You may want to find yourself some basic supplies, but your current weapons and armor will suit you fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a shop in town that sells stuff like that, I think,” Jenga said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent. Oh, even better…” Lorcan grinned. “You’ve robbed stores before, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rob this one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga was taken aback. “I mean… we’ll have to ditch town afterward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to start adventuring anyways. Maybe head back to your hometown for a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga made a face. She disliked her hometown. Most of it was fine, but she hadn’t forgotten how her neighbors refused to help her following her father's death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lorcan stepped closer to her. Jenga found herself taking a step back as the brand below her collarbone twinged not in guidance, but in clear warning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This sort of thing isn’t a choice,” he told her. “Whether or not you accept my advice, I have given it. Now, there’s a fine storefront in town waiting to be broken into.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga nodded quickly, angry at herself for being so foolish as to forget about her side of the deal she made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, sir. Alone, or shall I bring a few friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not? You’ll be leaving them soon anyways. Make a few more memories before you go. I’d be sure to hit up the place tonight, if I were you- I’ll be watching. Until we meet again, Jenga.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Until then, sir.” Bewildered, Jenga watched as Lorcan made his way back through the trees, vanishing from sight in seconds. She let out a breath that she didn’t realize she was practically holding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Collecting herself for a moment, Jenga took a deep breath, and then returned to the camp. She stalked through the group, picked up her bottle, and finished it in a few large gulps before letting it fall to the ground, where it cracked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyone up to volunteer for a special job?” She asked. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>Days after the heist, Jenga returned to the camp, having been enjoying a drink on her own for just an hour or so. She hadn't heard anything, nor was there anything that gave away what she found when she returned: Her patron, standing amongst the bodies of the bandits, all 30 or so of them, dead on the ground.</p><p>Jenga was dismayed. Appalled. Betrayed. But Lorcan's words were gentle, in a way. And it was so much easier to just listen. Far, far easier than thinking about what it could mean.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“You…” Jenga’s hands were clenched in fists as she looked at Lorcan. “You just killed them all?” She looked at the empty campsite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was necessary,” Lorcan said. “They would have harmed you if they could. I made sure they wouldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga struggled to control herself. She wanted to lash out, to punch, to kick, or at least do something other than be still. “Still, those were my friends!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that’s a lie,” he told her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ve saved my life before!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would they have extended the same kindness knowing that you were abandoning them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one who told me to, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m very proud of you for doing so. You’re doing well, Jenga. But this had to be done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga picked up an old cloak on the ground, reaching into the pockets. A part of her was still fuming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looting already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dropped it. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no point in lying to me. I don’t particularly care what you do with what’s left.” Lorcan motioned around. “You have all your supplies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, sir.” Several nights ago, Jenga and a few other bandits had broken into the supplies store in the previous town they were camped by. They had stolen many goods, the most essential of which Jenga kept for herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. You’ll want to get a room at the local tavern. Adventurers stop by quite often. If you find some you favor, they may let you tag along with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga searched through the camp, getting spare coins as Lorcan watched her. She counted them under her breath in her palms. “Yeah, this is enough for a few nights.” She stood, and noticed Lorcan still there. “Did they… Did they die quickly, at least?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The ones that didn’t put up a fight, yes. The ones that did… Well, it didn’t last for long, so I suppose so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Jenga nodded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s still a bit fucked up. But he’s right, they would have been angry enough to try and kill me, probably.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to move past them,” Lorcan said. “That’s some advice free of charge right there. It’s practically common sense. The bandits weren’t good for you, Jenga. You’ll go far now that you’re free from them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I guess he did free me from them, sort of. They weren’t even that nice, really. I only stuck around with them because I had nowhere else, come to think of it...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right,” Jenga said. “Thank you, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Best get going, now. The tavern’s bit of a walk from here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know my way around,” Jenga told him. She had grown up in the area, after all. She was staying clear of the north east area, however, where her childhood home remained in a ruin on the outskirts of town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you do. I look forward to observing your adventures.” Lorcan spread his wings and curled them around himself. In an instant, he was gone.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>Jenga returned to Maplewood. She stayed in the tavern there for many nights, and about a week had past when a group of adventurers arrived.</p><p>A tall fighter with a bored expression, accompanied by a second human who wore a mechanic's belt and vest. A gnome noblewoman, with bright green eyes and an escort of three others. A small, cloaked figure with eyes that darted about warily. A halfling with silver hair and a black cloak, holding what seemed to be a religious book. They were gathered around a board on the wall, discussing jobs, debating about a trip to deal with kobolds in a mine or a trip into the woods to deal with fairy dragons.</p><p>Jenga slid from her seat in the corner and walked to the group.</p><p>"Hey, what are y'all talking about?"</p><p>And that's when her adventures began.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Trip to Amberstead</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This didn't fit in the backstory overview, but I wanted to include it. Just a snapshot of Jenga, at age 11, with her father Andor.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Dad,” Jenga huffed, kicking up dust. “Why do I need to come with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t be home by yourself, Jenga. It isn’t safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this is safer?” Jenga raised a brow. “Roads can be dangerous too, right? More dangerous than Maplewood, I’d bet-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still, I would rather have you with me.” Her dad sighed. “If I let you ride in the cart, will you stop whining?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga considered it. “Sure.” She swung herself into the cart as it was moving. Her dad twisted around from his spot on the horse and gave her a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful not to break anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>never.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jenga squirmed around to fit between the pieces of wood stacked in the back. The leg of a chair poked her in the thigh and she had to recline rather awkwardly against a toy rocking horse, but she was able to remain within the cart, which was doubtless better than walking alongside it. She watched as they past by trees and houses, waving to the people they passed. Some small groups travelled on foot, sometimes someone passed quickly on horseback, and Jenga loved it when they passed other carts, and she would peer over the edge to try and glimpse what was inside. Once she saw a cart loaded with fresh fruit, and another time she saw several kids riding in the back of one, laughing with glee as they scrambled for the best view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So far on this trip, she had only seen one other cart, and it was empty, much to her disappointment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we there yet?” She asked her father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nearly. About fifteen more minutes.” He turned and looked at her proudly. “You’ve been so patient this whole time, Jen. After we set up, I’ll buy you a treat at the bakery, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga was pleased at the idea of a treat, and waited out the rest of the time eagerly. When they at last arrived at the place they would set up, amongst other vendors of various goods, Jenga began unloading her father’s creations as he made sure the horse was all set. She was lugging a table into place when Andor hurried over to help her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carefully there, don’t drop it on your toes.” He winced. “I did that, once. Not pleasant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daaad.” Jenga rolled her eyes. “Come on, just set up the tent so we can go get a treat!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did all that patience go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It ran out,” Jenga informed him matter-of-factly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Funny.” He gathered the tent from the cart and began setting it up with practiced ease. Jenga was practically bouncing on her toes as he hammered the last spike into the ground, standing up and wiping his brow. “Alright.” He patted his pocket and nodded. “Let’s go. Stay close to me, alright Jen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They began to navigate the streets of Amberstead. Jenga felt like her head was on a swivel, moving it back and forth. Every time she went to the city she tried to take it all in. The sights, the sounds, the people. Occasionally her father would tug her closer to him, away from one seedy character or another. Jenga followed him closely and finally they came to a familiar shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga knew what she wanted to buy before she even entered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want a maple muffin!” She told her dad. He looked down at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can get that easily at home, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but the ones here are really good.” She nodded, as if that would make him agree with her. Andor sighed, but stepped up to the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A maple muffin and a cider donut, please,” he requested, counting coins from his pouch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“8 coppers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andor raised a brow but handed over the payment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prices are always high in the city,” he muttered as he left, holding Jenga’s hand. Jenga was using her free hand to eat her muffin, showering crumbs over the road and attracting the attention of quite a few bothersome birds. She looked around as they slowed their walk to a leisurely pace, taking time to enjoy the sights. So many odd folks in this area, she noticed. She saw a large woman- or a man, she couldn’t say- with green skin much more vibrant than her own, and a bow at their back. She saw a group of very short folks- Halflings, if her knowledge was correct- gathered in a group at a bench, playing some sort of card game. She saw a dwarvish looking fellow exit a shop grumbling to his friend about customer service, and she saw a pink-toned creature with horns pull a cloak tightly around themselves and stalk down a side street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jenga,” her dad said, directing her attention, “when we get back, I have a special job for you. You need to go a few tents down and find the man selling eggs and butter. I need two dozen eggs and a stick of butter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why can’t we get eggs from the neighbors like we used to?” Jenga questioned. “I know they aren’t very nice, but they’ve always been helpful before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I’ve had… Bit of a falling out with them,” Andor said. “A simple disagreement on views, really, but still, he’s rescinded his ongoing offer of eggs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it because of what you do in the west room?” Jenga asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her father laughed. “You’re 11 years old and quite bright, Jenga. What is it you think I do in that room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you do some magic things I’m not allowed to see,” she said. “I’m not sure what exactly you do, but it’s probably not safe for me and that’s why you make me go out of the house all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. I’m glad you understand.” They returned to their tent after several minutes of walking. “One of these days, maybe, I’ll show you but-” he hesitated, “I can’t promise that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Jenga said, finally finishing her muffin. “Can I go get the eggs and butter now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes. Take these coins- don’t drop any- it’s just down that way, within sight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga took them and skipped her way to a green tent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, can I get two dozen eggs and a stick of butter?” She showed the man her coins, pleased to be buying something all by herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re…” The man tilted his head, peering closer. “Oh, you’re not an elf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… Were you expecting me to be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve only ever seen you from far off. Makes sense why you’re always hanging about that man over there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s my father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So your mother, then, she was-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does it matter? Can I have what I’m buying, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. Right.” The man gave her two cartons and the butter and took the coins. Jenga didn’t delay in returning to her dad.</span>
</p><p>----</p><p>
  <span>“That man is weird,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He thought I was an elf. Seemed disappointed to see I wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he needs to mind his own business, then. Put the food in the crate, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga did as he instructed, and sat down in a chair besides him. She bounced a question around in her mind for a while until asking it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad, how long were you and mom together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andor ran a hand through tousled brown hair that looked nearly black in the shade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Years,” he finally said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you stay together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was silent for quite a while. “It was hard. Sometimes things don’t go the way you plan.” He shook his head, “I ended up raising you, mostly. You probably don’t remember, but you were with your mother when you were only a couple months old. She sang you the most beautiful lullabies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t sing,” Jenga pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he laughed, “that’s my fault, really, for being so tone-deaf.” He drummed a tune on the arm of his chair, humming something that wasn’t too awful, really, and seemed faintly familiar, though Jenga couldn’t place words to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She could speak Elvish,” Jenga said, “right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So do you,” he pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can ‘speak’ Elvish.” Jenga made quotes with her fingers. “Like, I can read and write it, but let’s be honest, I can just barely hold a conversation. It’s not like you talk in it all that often. Not as often as you used to, anyways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. It… It reminds me of her too much, sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga didn’t respond. No amount of pleading would get her father to reveal more, she knew that well. Her mother was a sensitive topic for him, no matter the reasoning why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, though,” he continued. “You’re everything to me, Jen. The most important thing in my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga left her chair to embrace her father. “Thanks, dad,” she said, pressed into his shoulder. The next thing she knew, she was scooped onto his lap, held within his arms, and he was rocking back and forth humming that same, familiar tune.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenga drifted off to sleep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All characters are my own with the exceptions of:<br/>The adventures described at the end are OCs of my friends.<br/>Also Jenga's patron, the cambion Lorcan, is from the Brimstone Angels series and thus created by Erin M. Evans.</p><p>Please comment anything, I could use some positivity as I deal with college finals, haha. If you comment a question to Jenga, I'll respond as her! </p><p>My DMs: 'You can't write a 9 page backstory'<br/>Me: 'bet'<br/>(Jenga's backstory, including the stories I've written that take place in her backstory, is about 20 pages by now. The actual document is over 100, due to my stories of the actual campaign. That's right, folks, there's more where this came from.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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